Slightly triggering event ahead.
Metamorphosis: The 100th Hunger Games
For What It's Worth - Part Three
They were so royally fucked.
Francine Nguyen, escort to District 12, paces back and forth in Twelve's Training Center suite living room while Ainsley bawls into her hands. Francine paces so much, she thinks that she might leave marks on the hardwood flooring. She paces to her left and stops, facing the elevator where a pair of Peacekeepers stand guard. She paces to her right, stopping before the floor-to-ceiling window and staring into the expanse of the Capitol's downtown. The City Circle was filled with angry Capitolites. Francine could hear their chants faintly even from here. Her phone is blowing up so much she had to turn it off. She even goes as far as to turn off the phone on the holovision. Before she and Ainsely could get potentially mobbed by the livid crowds in Capitol Arena, they were quickly escorted away from the premises and here they are - confined on Twelve's floor, unaware of their fate.
I didn't even get to speak to Mother or Father! They must be worried sick! What if they kill us, or turn us into Avoxes?! Oh goodness oh no, oh gosh...
"You see," Francine murmurs, wringing her hands as she continues to pace. She tunes out Tuesday's sobbing. "I-I knew that she was up to something. Something didn't seem right, not at all. But what could a teenage girl do - well obviously they can do a lot if we look at history - but we nipped that at the bud so obviously this one could be handled, right?! I guess NOT! Sweet Panem, when she said she wanted to be 'a victor of significance' I thought she meant outreach and a high profile, not killing herself on live television - UGH!"
The escort turns to Ainsely who cradles herself back and forth on the settee. Francine sighs, setting herself next to her victor and pulling her close. "Don't worry Ains. We will bounce back from this...hopefully..."
"What do you MEAN?!" Ainsely roars back with bulging, bloodshot eyes while slapping Francine's thigh. "There is no 'bouncing back'! It's over...If I'm a pariah now, I'll be an unperson tomorrow."
Stunned, Francine stares blankly at a wall until a Peacekeeper marches over and instructs them to follow him. Exchanging glances, they obey. From the Training Center, they drive a few minutes to the Presidential Mansion. A mob congregates here as well, kept at bay by a wall of Peacekeepers. Francine makes sure to grip Ainsley's hand as they are escorted by Guardsmen up the steps and into the mansion proper. Francine is a woman of pragmatism - a rock when it comes to emotions. Not here. She's breathing through her mouth the closer they get to the State Office, and she could feel Ainsley's trembling - amplifying her own shakes. The guards hand them off to the Presidential Mansion Chief of Staff, Armitage DeWynter, someone she knows very well. But instead of greeting her with a humble smile, Armitage is rigid when their eyes meet, opening the large double doors to the President's office. The two of them enter, flinching in unison when the door is closed shut behind them.
The President is speaking with a couple of Peacekeeper officers, when she lays eyes on the pair she dismisses the Generals who snap off a salute to their commander-in-chief and eye Francine and Ainsely as they leave.
"Come on Ains," Francine murmurs into Ainsely's ear as the door behind them closes. "Let's go..."
The two make their over to the President's desk, which to Francine feels like an eternity to get to due to the State Office being as large as ten bedrooms. They're about to take their seats in the two chairs that sit before President DeWynter's large, ornate desk when the woman herself raises a hand.
"No one said you could sit." The woman hisses.
Francine immediately moves away from the chair, opting to stand rigid. "Sorry, Your Excellency..." she says dipping her head in reverence.
"Oh yes, I would be sorry too, if I were you." DeWynter drawls, cupping her hands while leaning onto her desk. "Because if you ask me, I would say that this starts with you two."
Francine laughs out of hesitation, but immediately quiets herself as DeWynter glares daggers at her.
"Thousands are dying or wounded, right now as we speak. All because people can't do their due diligence-"
Francine raises a tentative finger. "Your Excellency, I'm not sure how much mor-"
"You were RIGHT THERE with her and you're telling me that you didn't know a thing?!"
"N-No, I didn't. I reported everything, day in and day out! I didn't know she was going to do that!"
The President snaps her vision onto Ainsely, who looks as if she were going to faint then and there. "And what about you, hm, what did you do to prevent this?"
Ainsely begins to speak, but her throat is so dry her voice warbles. She quickly swallows. "I...I um..."
"I can answer for you - absolutely NOTHING, as per usual," DeWynter denounces, jutting her jaw out. "You would fit right in with the first generation of victors - good for absolutely nothing but being a waste of space. Bitching and moaning instead of getting on with it. Haymitch Abernathy comes to mind. Your district partner would've made a far better victor than you are, if I could even call you that."
If Francine weren't holding her, she feels that Ainsely would've dropped. Even Ainsely's eyes have glazed over. "President DeWynter, Ainsely..."
President DeWynter cuts Francine off completely, launching into a cuss-filled tirade about 'her legacy' being tarnished and that her first Games "A quell no less" is a colossal disaster and that "Many people are gunning for her chair and this doesn't help". Ainsely starts bawling again but is immediately told to "Shut the fuck up before I make you" which quickly prompts Francine to soothe her before DeWynter makes good on that promise. At the end of the rant, Francine herself feels like she's about to faint. But for Ainsely's sake, she remains alert.
DeWynter juts a finger towards Ainsely, whose all but checked out of the conversation. "You, get the fuck out of my city and go back to your rat's nest and wait for the next pair of rejects to get called up and killed like the fodder they are." Francine becomes alert again when she whips her head towards her. "And you, you're lucky no one wants your shitty district and your family has status. Get out."
They immediately obey, turning to leave the office. Halfway towards the exit, Francine nearly stumbles to the ground. Ainsely does as well. They say nothing on the ride back to the Training Center. They say nothing to their fellow escorts and victors who eye them with curiosity in the lobby. They say nothing as they reach Twelve's floor, pack their bags and vacate the apartment until next year. They say nothing as they get into the limousine and drive down to Grand Central. They say nothing when Francine follows her to the platform and wait for the train.
"...See you soon?" Francine says, plastering a weak smile on her face when Ainsley prepares to board. Ainsely says nothing, entering the train without even a kind gesture, hand squeeze - nothing. Francine watches and waits until the train leaves the station before leaving. Francine would spend the next couple of weeks pestering the phone operators and checking the news for when the communications ban would be lifted. She made sure to fire off some emails to Ainsely just in case there was a lapse in the pause. When the news reports that the restriction would finally be lifted, she makes sure to give her victor a call.
"...Hello?"
Francine's heart flutters at the sound of Ainsley's voice, rising from off of her couch with joy. "Ains!...Hello?"
"Hi."
"Hi, how are you...Did you get my emails?" Francine asks, glancing out into the expanse of the city.
"Yeah."
"How come you didn't answer?"
A long pause flourishes before Ainsley replies. "I only saw them today. I didn't have much to say in reply."
"That's okay. The communications ban is up in your part of Panem now, so I thought I'd give you a call and...check up, hehe!"
"...Thanks."
Francine hums in acknowledgement, glancing down onto the streets below her apartment where banners were being set up once more. Panem Day was fast approaching. It was one of her favorite holidays, besides...well...She enjoys the goose-stepping Peacekeepers and their vehicles and the yes, and the fireworks, she couldn't forget the fireworks.
"Say, Panem Day is coming, so I thought that maybe I could come hang out with you! I'd invite you to the Capitol but...yeah. But I imagine that District 12 has a very homey feeling when it comes to celebrating. It'll be great! We could go to Seneca Rocks or the Greenbrier! Father has a room we could share."
"...Um..."
"Please, Ains? I would love to see you again."
"Okay..."
"Great! You don't have to worry about a single thing. I'll see you soon, okay? Bye!"
...
Days later, Francine pulls her convertible up to Victor's Village as giddy as giddy can be, dressed for the wonderful weather in a white, short sleeve blouse and red shorts. With groceries in hand, she waves to the disinterested Peacekeeper who mans the guardhouse before zipping to Ainsely's house as fast as her heels could carry her. She surprised to see that the other unoccupied mansions have been recently manicured with cut lawns. She marches right up to the front door, and rings the doorbell. When she receives no answer and does it twice more, she opts open the door which works.
"Hello, Ainsely...?" Francine says aloud, checking the time on her communicuff. A quarter past nine, I'd be sleeping too! Francine spends the time wandering the lower level of the house. Everything looks well put together, then again, Ainsely isn't a messy creature. She turns on the Holovision and turns the channel to Capitol TV where the anchor interviews Isabella Wilkinson yet again. Apparently she's dating her high school beau and has been spotted with him about the streets. Not that she minded, she's a perfect victor for a non-Career. But it's as if Panem was fresh off the Ninety-Ninth Hunger Games instead of the One Hundredth. It's as if the One Hundredth never happened. Oh look, Francisco and Joyceta are back on again...That's nice. She proceeds to make breakfast, sets it on a platter and proceeds upstairs to Ainsely's room. Her ears perk up at the sound of someone's voice entwined with a melody.
"We'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when but I know we'll meet again
some sunny day..."
"Ainsleey, wake up!" Francine chirps, using her bottom to push the slightly ajar door open. She notices that Ainsely's eyes are partially open from what she can see. "Good, you're up. Come, there's so much we can do today!" She says, placing the platter on the table. She turns off the radio as she moves towards the curtains to let the sunshine in. The window is already slightly ajar. That's good, she can get a little sweaty sometimes but that's okay. "I was thinking that we could get some more groceries and then go to the hotel. It must be so boring here I've come to understand..."
She sits down on Ainsley's bedside, sighing when she doesn't receive an answer. She notices the tumbler with wine residue on the inside resting on her side dresser. I don't blame her.
"It's hard to be a lone victor, I think I know. Especially in the aftermath of the quell...But, we can't just give up, you can't just clam up. I'll brush up for the zillionth time past Hunger Games and I'll be an unofficial mentor! I'll step up even more than I already do - not that you do nothing - but it's the fact that you're alone and it can be a lot. Doris always says to Gwen Faraday that she's worth all the victors. Well, you're worth all the victors to me. While everyone is counting you out, I'm counting on you."
She clucks her tongue when Ainsely remains mute. She rises up from her spot on the bed and makes her way over to Ainsely's prone form.
"Come on, Ains," Francine chimes, peeling back the covers. "A trip to the Greenbrier is exacl - Oh..."
The side of her head deep into the pillow, Ainsely's singular eye remains glossed over while her mouth was partially agape. Francine immediately thinks back to President DeWynter's verbal murder she committed on them. Ainsely wore a pink slip, in which one sleeve dangled off her shoulder. She was straight as a board, her arms lined up against her sides.
"Ains...?" Francine places the backside of her hand against her cheek and gasps. Usually, there's a certain amount of warmth that radiates off of people. There was no warmth when she touches Ainsely, just cold and stiffness. "Ainsely?!" Francine gives Ainsely a firm shove. Her position, the blank expression on her face doesn't shift a muscle. She...She can't be...She tries again, harder this time, flinching backwards when a plastic bottle drops onto the floor and rolls to her foot. She collects the empty bottle, her eyes incredulously flickering from it to Ainsely.
Francine lets out the loudest shriek she's ever done. The Peacekeeper hears this from his post, drawing his sidearm while he rushes from the front gates to Ainsley Tisdayle's mansion. He barges through the front door, the handgun shrieking to life and ready to burn some holes into its target. He sweeps the kitchen and living room before hearing sobs from upstairs. He proceeds cautiously up the stairs, noticing the slightly open bedroom door. Upon entering, he first notices the platter of food that remains untouched, and then Ms. Tisdayle and Ms. Nguyen. The escort kneels against Ainsley's bedside, sobbing while whimpering into the lying victor's ear and planting kisses on the side of her head. The Peacekeeper places his weapon on 'safe', holstering it once more as he moves to further investigate.
"What's going on here...?" Oh shit...He didn't need much of an explanation. Francine rolls over, falling off the bed and landing on her bottom, allowing him to see an unresponsive Ainsely Tisdayle. Her face was wet with the escort's tears and lipstick stains her temple where she was kissed. He flips her onto her back, prepared to revive her but it was no use. Ainsley is as stiff as a board. He barely has time to react when Francine jumps him, hooking her fingers in-between his chest and upper breastplate and shoving him to the wall. Her brown eyes tremble with anger as she presses herself against him.
"Why didn't you check up on her?!" she barks, shaking him for added affect. "WHY?!"
He shakes his head, for he simply has no words to explain. He had seen Ainsely head out for her typical walk around the town yesterday, no problem. She seemed her usual, pensive self.
"She wasn't just some backetcase shut-in, like everyone thinks she is!" She pushes him aside, dropping to her knees and scooting back to Ainsley's side once more. In a choked voice she says "She was a real person, a true person! But it's not like any of YOU would understand that."
The Peacekeeper remains in place, stunned as Francine's ugly sobs fill the air. Ainsely didn't even leave a note.
...
The news isn't too much of a surprise when it breaks. Still dealing with the aftermath of the failed quell, the Presidential Mansion releases a generic statement of mourning, which Francine finds to be empty and feckless (like how she was finding most people in her circle since Veradisia did what she did). They play reruns of her Games and her interviews and as Francine watches them again - with a more reflective mind - she realizes how damaged Ainsely truly was. She brainstorms some hypothetical scenarios about other victors suddenly dying. The President would throw a state funeral if Jasper Rankine died, Marceline would speak triumphantly about her triumphs. Ainsely gets nothing but a passing glance.
Ainsley Tisdayle was a community home brat, so she has no real family apart from some of the children who went there with her. Francine takes it upon herself to sort out Ainsley's affairs. It takes some hand-wringing - especially with Snow Island, One, Two and Four - to get all the escorts and victors over to Twelve for her funeral. Francine has her cremated and her ashes spread in the Kanawha River, a place both she and Ainsely often frequented. Ainsely loved wandering so why not have her be tied down to the same places she 'haunted'.
Mayor Simms was nice enough to say a few words, as well as Gwen and Piper and Elizabeth and Paisley. Francine closes them off by describing Ainsley's tenacity during her Games. Even though she wasn't a conventional winner, she played smartly and that's what got her through.
The Department of Victors' Affairs appoints a Peacekeeper from Overwhill Academy as her mentor replacement. Before the One Hundredth Hunger Games, she would be jumping up and down with joy. He was a trainer - an expert!
But now, she feels empty. It doesn't bring back Ains.
...
It's the last days of summer, and Francine finds herself in her apartment most often than not. Without a current victor to gawk about, the press continues their obsession with Izzy Wilkinson's upcoming fall graduation. Everett Danton is engaged? That's nice. Are Rafaela Novia and Glisten Hemingway an item? (She personally understands that Rafaela doesn't like people like that for some reason, Melanie never spills the full detes.). She continues to channel surf when she hears a knock at the door. Who could that be? It couldn't be her parents, who usually call in advance. She hopes it isn't Peacekeepers or Interior Agents.
Even though she's known her since high school, the sight of Doris McKenzie - queen of electric swing - always takes her aback. She never got used to her unique skin modifications - a vibrant black and white - that makes her look like a walking antique portrait. Her fringed dress and chin length bob garnished with a feather only adds to the effect.
"Heya Frannie...How's it goin?" the famed-singer-and-escort chimes. Oh and her accent. So squeaky and twangy In the Capitol's pecking order, being from the East Side of the city relegates you to outer district status. Yet somehow, her family surpassed the stereotypes and made a name for themselves in the music industry.
Francine pulls Doris into a hug, sighing into her friend's shoulder. When's the last time she's ever gotten a hug? Not since the Games imploding, she knows that for sure. Nonetheless, it was an amazing hug because of that.
"Hello, Doris." Francine chimes back with a warm grin. "What brings you here?"
"I just thought I oughta drop by, y'know...with all the recent happenings." Doris explains, her eyes not quite reaching Francine's. They do once she says this "Would you like to go for a drive?" Francine can't help but accept Doris' offer. It wasn't like there was much else to do in her apartment. So after leaving her apartment and swinging by their favorite café chain for some pastries and drinks, the two of them were left cruising through the streets of Capitol City in Doris' bubbletop convertible.
"Drives like a dream, don't it?" Doris asks, her black lips parting to form a wide smile.
Francine nods. It was as if she were still on her living room couch, extremely comfortable. "It does...It does...What's the model again, a Capitolian?"
"Yep! A '64 Capitolian, with all the bells and whistles," she answers, keeping one hand on the wheel while caressing the dashboard with a manicured hand. "Some fella from PMC who's smitten with yours truly gave it to me."
The two fall into a pit of silence that Francine finds comfortable. It's funny how a year ago, she was a social butterfly and now...She wants very little to do with the circles she frequented. What, with their constant disparaging of Ainsley and herself sometimes. What a bunch of feckless hypocrites. They were the same people cheering Veradisia on before she...did what she did.
"How are ya feeling, Fran?" There's a considerable amount of traffic, giving Doris ample amount of time to hold her gaze with Francine. "Honestly. Ainsely was such a pleasant person."
Francine's mind becomes flooded with Ainsley's image. From the first day they met, from the last kiss she planted on her temple before the coroners took her body away. Some more time passes before Francine finally decides to open up. "I feel horrible, Doris. Not one day goes by that I don't think about her. And it's not just her, but the fallen as well! Seeing all those pregnant wives made my stomach turn. Their parents may have been rebels but them...I'm drawing a blank. As much as I try to put on a smile, get on with the aftermath, their stories make my brain melt."
Francine stirs as she realizes the car hasn't accelerated in a little while. She's surprised when she notices that they were parked in a high school parking lot. Gone were the tall skyscrapers and the bustle of downtown, replaced with more greenery and tasteful subdivisions. Was this Doris' school? She found it funny, being here as two of one of Panem's most well-known people instead of in the City Circle being photographed by the press.
She turns to Doris who continues to regard her with the utmost attention. "Did you go here? Yes? Oh. "Well, as I was saying...I understand that the Games 'have meaning' but the toll it took on Ainsely I'm only starting to realize without being facetious. Not to mention the recent tributes..."
"Oh no, the Games have no meanin' whatsoever. After this past debacle, it just goes to show you how wasteful it could truly be. This quell wasn't planned out right and now they're paying the piper and rightfully so."
...I beg your pardon? Francine has to double take to make sure no one else was listening. The parking lot is empty. Did she just disparage the Capitol? "Did you just..."
"Are you mad about what transpired, Fran?"
Francine nods slowly. "Yes, very...I'm upset about the loss, the brain drain, the babies without fathers...Ainsely."
Doris grins from ear to ear, shifting her attention to the dashboard as she switches on the ignition and begins driving again. "As you may or may not know, Gwennie was in the same slump as Ainsely was. Fortunately for her, Gwen had things to do while Ainsely didn't. Just seeing how the Games drained her despite my trying to perk her up...and then all the kids - Maia - it made me sick too. Did you know that Maia was comin' to the Capitol to study? Now look! Seeing those tributes fight and die showed me how wasteful it all is. Veradisia killing herself showed me how wasteful it all is."
Francine feels uneasy, heat rising to her chest as she shuffles on the bench seating. "What's the point of this outing, Doris?"
"A loota people are upset, if you haven't noticed Fran. Not just us." Doris explains, turning into a residential street. "I know a few people who can help us...'explore' these newfound feelings a little further."
Francine is perplexed when they finally pull into the garage of a quaint two story home. "Our family home, from Panem's early days," Doris explains as she lets her in. "Instead of selling, we thought preserving our roots would be better."
The transition from the garage to the lowermost floor is quick. The basement is barren, except for a heap of electrical equipment and an assortment of chairs. Francine feels like a lost puppy, watching Doris as she immediately settles into a chair and pulls up a chair of her own when the District 3 escort motions for her to do so. Francine immediately notices that the items that Doris pulls out are extremely archaic - like something you'd see in a period piece film set last century.
"I didn't know you were an egghead, Doris." She murmurs, watching as she places an absolute brick of a laptop onto the table, connecting it with various wires. She wonders if what Doris is doing is legal.
"Gwennie taught me!" she chirps back in reply, punching in some commands on a black screen. "When I said she was worth all the victors Panem's ever had, I meant it." Francine turns her attention to the laptop screen as it undergoes that telltale screeching of the computer 'handshaking' with whatever server Doris is connected to. Seconds later, they find themselves in a very primitive chat room.
"D-Doris," calls a familiar voice over the line that belongs to someone named 'GF'. "Y-your'e h-here."
Doris pulls her in close. "Yep, and I brought a certain someone along with me!"
"Is this everyone?" Asks an accented voice that Francine can't put her finger on. 'AC' is their initials and they have an insignia of a rising sun, something that rivals a house sigil or Panem's seal.
"The core group, yes." 'JC' says.
"Alright." 'AC' replies as one by one, each member of the chat room reveals their faces. Gwen, Paisley Gordon and Zinnia of 11, Annabelle Starling and Harriet, Abigail Jackson, Elizabeth Verano, Celosia and Everett, Elizabeth, Piper, Jason Christos -surprisingly - and all of District 6's victors are all in the chat room.
"Hello Francine," Jason greets, his voice coy as coy can be as he waves on screen. "Nice of you to join our little get together."
"I'm g-gl-glad that Doris could c-c-convince you." Gwen adds with a smile.
Heat rushes to Francine's chest once more. She's heard about a scenario just like this in history class...it does not end well for those who are involved. How is this even possible? Well, with Gwen Faraday - the reincarnation of Beetee Latier and Wiress Plummer combined, anything was possible. But was this really happening? Another underground rebel cell and she was privy to it.
"I told ya that a lot of people are upset," Doris chirps like a child who proves themselves right. "And this is just the 'head' of the snake! There's plenty more people across Panem holding their tongue. Not to mention we have an entire nation covering our backs!"
"An entire nation?" She didn't follow foreign news too heavily, but she knows immediately where Doris is going with this. "Oh wait, you don't mean..."
Yep. The seal gives way to the man that she recognizes as President Matthews of some confederation in Oceania. She's seen enough footage of President Coin to know that he was not her. He seems like the type of man to lead battles by the front, not the back. She thinks it's the hulking build and metal arm that gives her that impression.
"Australia and the confederation she heads are more than willing to aid in restoring Panem into the republic it was modeled after." Matthews avows, loud and boldly. "Before it was warped beyond recognition."
"See, an entire nation. The guys before barely had that." Doris says to her, placing a gentle hand over hers. When she notices Francine's aversion, she frowns. "What would Ainsely do?"
Francine bites her lip. Well, Ainsely was a somewhat damaged girl, but she still had wherewithal. With a little talking to and reflection, she would..."Stay," she answers, looking Doris straight in the eye. "She would stay."
So Francine does stay. And the information Gwendolyn Faraday shares with her that evening makes her stay to ensure that Panem changes for the better.
The End...?
9th: Wondr'a Okafor
8th: Kaviraya Parathi
7th: Sarissa Levesque
6th: Theilan Caldron
5th: Maia Clear
4th: Solomon Kohli
3rd: Zahira Kazimirova
2nd: Tuesday Suetos
1st: Veradisia Smith
I wish you were here, TJ...Where'd you go? I Remember being very happy to receive Veradisia's form. I don't think I planned to axe Veradisia at all during the early stages of the Games, she was always a long hauler in my books. I struggled with whether to make sure her mission was complete or have her fail her mission. Because obviously, her completing the mission kinda 'pisses' people off, which I imagine some of you (Discord and PMs kinda make it so) MOST of you would be upset if she won.
You guys are probably - are - "pissed" and inwardly sobbing. I have a medical bill to pay for too, apparently. But this was most definitely my least favorite ending. However, in terms of good plot, I figure this to be the 'figurative' ending of Metamorphosis. There's a lot of places you could go with a failed Hunger Games, a quarter quell no less. Just look at the Seventy-Fifth Games.
Because this is the last chapter in the main component, I guess I should make the last note beefy by saying thank you. Discord ppl, Quietwraith and other creepers who pop in every now and then (I hope), Brames coming in clutch in the nick of time...so on and so forth. You guys have been very good. Mhm.
"Wtf Tyler? Where are the other eulogies?!"
Good question. Why bother say thank you if I'm not done yet...hmm...